10 Seconds Until Self Destruct
by FrostIronAndStrawberries
Summary: Spencer Reid is a genius detective with more than a few dark secrets. Derek Morgan is an FBI profiler with a tragic past. Both are broken, but when a case brings them together, can they fix each other? AU in which Reid never joined the BAU, M/R SLASH, Reid/Team friendships
1. Chapter 1

_**10 Seconds Until Self-Destruct **_

**Summary-**** Spencer Reid is a genius detective with more than a few dark secrets. Derek Morgan is an FBI profiler with a tragic past. Both are broken, but when a case brings them together, can they fix each other? AU in which Reid never joined the BAU, M/R SLASH, Reid/Team friendships**

**Warnings-**** language, mentions of drug use, violence and torture…**

**Rating-****T (for now)**

**A/N:**** Alright *coughs* Here I go. This is an idea that I've been toying around with for a while now, and I finally thought to myself hey, why not post it and see what people think? This is my first fanfiction, even though I've been a member on this sight for a while now, and it will be filled with lots of angst, romance, and our two favorite FBI profilers suffering and in pain… but more importantly in love ;) So, before you read my story, there are some things you should know…**

**Reid WAS kidnapped and tortured by Tobias Hankel, and addicted to Dialuid for a while. In this story, he's a detective, so he and his partner were sent to help out and consult with the case, which ended with him getting kidnapped. In this story, THE B.A.U. DID NOT WORK THIS CASE, even when Reid was kidnapped. Because he isn't a member of the BAU, he wasn't forced to choose one of them to die, but was instead told to pick someone to die out of a group of people that he knew or met on the case. He ended up picking his partner, Damien (who you will meet in the story), and gave him the clue needed to find him and Tobias, like he did in Revelations with Hotch. **

**Also, Reid is about 30 years old in this. However, he was kidnapped about 7 months ago, when he was 29. So Tobias Hankel and the kidnapping and everything happened MUCH more recently, and not when Reid was in his early twenties. This is because he is a detective in this story, and Reid was technically too young to be a detective when the kidnapping and everything occurred in the show. Also, if Reid acts out of character in this story, such as not rambling too many facts, or being much more restrained, it is because he **_**is**_** a detective in this, and sort of has to be more self-restrained, and also because he is still struggling with being kidnapped and with the drugs, etc, **

**As for Derek and the BAU, I don't know how they solved all of those cases without our lovely genius, but let's just say they did ;) Everyone other then Reid is still on the team, including JJ and Prentiss, since this is after JJ officially became a profiler and Prentiss 'came back' from the dead, but the story also takes place before Prentiss leaves once more, at the end of season 7. **

**Also, there may be character death in this story at some point, but it will NOT be Reid, Morgan, or any members of the BAU. If anything, it will be my O.C's. **

**Okay, sorry for the long A/N, but now that you need to know all you need to know about this story, you may read away :) **

**Disclaimer:**** I DO NOT own Criminal Minds or any of its characters. I do however, own Damien and my other original characters, but other than that, I do not own anything. If I did own Criminal Minds, Reid would be put in danger every single episode, he and Morgan would have been together since day one, and they would have fights ALL the time (because I love drama), but always make up *cough*out*cough* ;) **

**Chapter 1 **

**Eyes **

It was always the eyes that got to Spencer Reid the most.

The cold, unseeing eyes of the dead that made a shiver run down his spine every time he saw them. They could die the most gruesome deaths: they could be torn apart, beaten, strangled, electrocuted, but it was always the eyes that affected him the most, made that familiar bitter taste invade his mouth. They were the eyes of people who had their whole lives in front of them, who had so much to look forward to, who had suffered so much before it all faded into blissful nothingness…

Today wasn't any different.

Spencer forced his eyes away from the bloody corpse of a once beautiful teenage girl that lay in front of him and turned to his partner, Detective Damien Jackson. Damien was watching Spencer closely, like he always did when ever they were called on to investigate a crime scene. He knew how much the bodies could affect Spencer. He knew, and Spencer still hadn't decided whether or not he hated him for it.

Spencer gave Damien a small smile and a quick nod, his signal that he was okay, before turning to look around the dump site.

"So the killer dumped her in a park, where she could easily be found. He even left a trail of blood from the middle of the parking lot to the exact bush she was left in. Someone this meticulous wouldn't do that by accident." Spencer said, gesturing to the locations he was describing as he talked about them. Damien nodded before continuing for him.

"She was stabbed exactly eight times in her abdomen and torso, beaten severely, and the burn marks indicate either matches were used or she was electrocuted. This was apparently done anti-mortem, indicating a massive amount of rage."

"But if he feels that much rage towards her, why take the time to dump her in such a specific location, and with such care and precision?" Spencer asked, his eyes flickering once more to the girl's barely concealed corpse. He felt a shudder run through him, and he forced himself once more to look away and back to his partner.

"…Maybe she's a surrogate for someone?" Damien considered, his ice blue eyes gazing at Spencer questioningly. "Either way, this doesn't seem like a random killing at all. It's well-planned, methodical. And everything about this kill points to someone with experience and a purpose."

Spencer nodded, biting his lip. Damien noticed his hesitation.

"What's up Doc?"

Spencer scowled at the nickname. Despite the fact he had… quite a few PHD's, and even some BA's on the side, he always preferred being called a detective, which was his official standing in law enforcement. Damien knew this, and called him many variations of doctor simply to annoy him. It always works, but Spencer answered him anyway.

"I read something on the internet-"He pretended not to hear Damien mockingly gasp at that, "-that talked about how a girl in a nearby town was recently murdered and found in a park. She was found hanging in a tree, which is slightly different than this one, although…" he trailed off, thinking, "There was a picture of her beside the article. She was a teenage girl with dark brown hair, green eyes, perfect teeth and skin, as well as thin and attractive. The article didn't give too many details on the murder, but they did mention it was pretty brutal. And, statistically speaking, the odds of there being two brutal murders so close in proximity and with such similar victims-"

Damien was observing the girl's face and body as Spencer spoke, and, sensing Spencer was about to go into full ramble-mode, he cut him off, "The girl you just described sounds a lot like this girl right here. Same hair and eye color, body shape…" He turned to look at a slightly flushed Spencer, and asked him in a thoughtful voice "Do you think it's worth looking into the other girl's murder?"

Spencer seemed to consider this before slowly nodding. "Yeah, I think so. But maybe I'm wrong. I wasn't really paying _that_ much attention to what I was reading…"

Damien rolled his eyes and slung an air around his best friend's lanky shoulders. "When has your eidetic memory every failed you?" He turned slightly to the side to look at Spencer, and realized that Spencer's eyes were once again on the corpse in front of them. His gaze softened and he squeezed Spencer's shoulders, causing Spencer to look up again.

"Come on Doc. Let's go to the station and look into that theory of yours."

* * *

The moment Spencer and Damien arrived at the police station, Spencer excused himself and headed over to the washroom. He opened the door cautiously, and made sure that no one was in it, before he locked the door behind him with shaky hands. Leaning heavily against the shut door, he slid slowly to his knees, his eyes flickering shut as he tried to suppress the thoughts racing around in his head and the headache he was getting. He thought back to the car ride back to the station, and his head started to hurt all over again.

_The ride to the station was fairly quiet. Damien turned on the radio as usual, humming along to songs that Spencer refused to classify as actual music, while Spencer leaned back in his seat, thinking. After a couple minutes of silence, Damien finally broke it. _

"_When's the last time you visited your mom?" _

_The question caught Spencer off guard, and he struggled to think of a good response. _

"_I… umm… I'm not sure." He finished lamely, face flushed slightly. _

_Damien nodded, and when he and Spencer finally reached a red light, Damien turned to look at him, his gaze softer then usual but his voice still firm. _

"_You can't run away forever Spencer." _

"_I'm not running," Spencer snapped back, "I still do visit her, and I write to her almost every day-" _

"_You live half an hour away from Bennington. You don't need to write to her, you can go see-" _

"_Can we please not discuss this right now?" Spencer asked, his voice containing a rarely-used edge. _

_The red light turned green once more, and Damien sighed, turning back in his seat and driving once more along the busy road. _

"_You know I'm not doing this to upset you." Damien spoke gently, eyes still fixed on the road, "I'm just concerned about you."_

"_Well don't be," Spencer shot back, before immediately regretting it, "I'm sorry, it's just…" Spencer faltered before replying in a steadier voice, "I know you aren't trying to upset me, and you're concerned, but honestly, Damien, I'm fine." _

_Damien paused for a moment, before nodding. _

"_Alright," He spoke, still in a soft and gentle tone, one that he only reserved for Spencer. _

_They didn't speak much after that. _

Spencer felt guilty about how he treated Damien, but he reacted simply on instinct, saying the words that simply flew out of his mouth at the time, and ones that he knew Damien would want to hear.

He wasn't fine.

He knew it, Damien knew it.

He hadn't been fine since Georgia, and he knew he never really would be again.

The moment he thought of what happened in Georgia, a shudder ran through his entire body. Memories and thoughts ran through his head, images and voices and mind-numbing pain and the beautiful nothingness that came after it all…

He wanted it so badly it hurt. Other times he could handle it, focus himself on anything _but_ it. But it was times like this when it all just came crashing down and it _hurt_ and he wanted the nothingness, to forget everything and just let go…

Spencer's hands fumbled in his pockets, and he pulled out a medallion with trembling hands, fixing his eyes on it and just breathing. In and out, in and out.

Six months.

He had been clean for six months.

That was what the medallion represented.

The medallion, which gleamed and shimmered from the faint lighting in the washroom, was like his lifeline. Without it, he could lose everything; his job, his money, his home… his life.

But it also represented the fact that it had been about six months since Georgia, since he had been kidnapped and tortured, all at the hands of a religiously-fanatical serial killer who had come so close to killing him, so, _excruciatingly_ close…

He had in fact killed Spencer. But Tobias brought him back, the kind one out of all the personalities that held Spencer captive for those nightmarish days in what Spencer accurately quantified as _hell_.

Damien had watched him die and come back to life, apparently. He also apparently attacked four cops that day too, before being restrained and throwing up on them all.

So, let's say that a case the two detectives were brought in to consult on and help with was something neither of them ever wanted to experience again. _Ever_.

Looking back on it though, Spencer mused, it was the drugs that hurt both of them the most, that caused them both the most pain and terror. Spencer remembered with a shiver what happened when Damien found him trying to use them…

"_Spencer!" _

_Spencer snapped out of his drug-induced haze the moment he heard Damien calling his name from the door of his apartment. He was leaning against his couch, not even strong enough to drag himself onto it and into a proper sitting position. _

_Shit. Shit. Shit! Spencer thought, panic cutting through his foggy mind and causing him to think slightly more clearly._

"_Spencer, I know you're in there. Open up!" Worry was noticeably starting to creep into Damien's voice, causing Spencer to stagger to his feet, leaning on his couch for support. He shoved the needle and small, clear bottles under his couch cushion, and caught a reflection of himself in his large, black TV screen._

_His hair was wild, and his clothes were rumpled and covered with noticeable creases. You could tell even through the vague reflection that Spencer had huge bags under his eyes, and was completely exhausted. His normally bright eyes looked unfocused, and overall, he looked like absolute __**hell**__._

"_That's it Spencer, I'm coming in!" Damien called out, and before Spencer could even react, the door had flown open and Damien had stepped in, looking worried and slightly panicked. The bag of Chinese food that Damien had been holding in one hand dropped to the floor the moment he saw Spencer. _

_Damn his uncanny lock-picking ability was Spencer's only thought. His mind was still fuzzy and he still felt disoriented and strange and light-headed. But, to his horror, it wasn't hard at all to see the pain and pure sorrow on Damien's face. _

_Spencer couldn't meet Damien's eyes, and he looked to the floor, his face burning and eyes stinging furiously. _

_That's when he realized that he forgot to hide one of the bottles of Dialuid, and it was sitting there right beside him, glaring and screaming at him. _

_Spencer vaguely heard Damien walking towards him, and he soon felt a hand tilt his chin up, forcing him to meet Damien's eyes. _

"_My god Spencer," Damien said softly, looking dangerously close to breaking down himself. _

"_It helps," Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible, before he burst into tears._

Damien had stayed with Spencer that night, comforted him, and eventually convinced him to get some help. Without Damien there to help and guide him…Spencer had no idea what he would have done. But even now, he still struggled with the drugs, and it was times like this that he wanted them more then _anything_ in the entire world.

Spencer felt himself begin to sweat, and shivers began to run through his body. Withdrawal was, simply put, an absolute bitch to deal with. The symptoms of it had started to act up again recently, and even though Spencer knew he should talk to Damien about it, Spencer simply didn't want to burden him with the drugs all over again. Damien had already helped him enough, and didn't deserve to have to go through that all again. Of course, if Damien found out what Spencer was thinking about, he would both figuratively and literally _kill_ Spencer, but that was beside the point.

"Detective Reid," a voice called out from behind the door, causing Spencer to jerk out of his thoughts and hurriedly stand up, shoving the medallion into his pocket. "Just one second," Spencer called back as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, attempting to fix his hair and become presentable once more. He then grabbed his bag and opened the door swiftly, and came face to face with a young and nervous-looking police officer.

"Detective Jackson wanted to, uhh, speak to you," the police officer stammered. Spencer smiled faintly at him, and thought about how similar he and Spencer once were. Nervous in the presence of their superiors, only wanting to prove themselves and save people while doing so, and, more importantly, only just starting to see the horrors of their job, and the world in general.

_I wish I was that naïve _Spencer thought wistfully before dragging himself out of his thoughts and replying politely to the still-waiting officer in front of him.

"Thank you." Spencer started to walk in the direction of his office, where he knew Damien would be waiting, but the police officer suddenly called out to him once more.

"Detective!"

Spencer turned around and fixed a questioning but hopefully non-threatening look at the police officer. "Yes?" he asked.

The man didn't reply for a moment, but eventually raised his still slightly nervous but steady gaze to Spencer's. "Are you alright?"

Spencer was taken aback by the question, and didn't respond for a moment, before he snapped out of his shocked daze and replied, "Of course I am," before he turned and walked away.

_Great. Now even people I barely know are realizing that something is wrong with me. _

Spencer entered his office with a slightly on edge expression on his face, but could only roll his eyes and smile slightly when he saw Damien sitting at his desk with his feet stretched out on it and Spencer's glasses perched precariously on his nose.

"What exactly are you doing?" Spencer asked, letting out a long-suffering sigh as he did so. Damien was one of the best detectives in the state, and yet he still managed to act like a child about 99.9% of the time.

Damien flashed Spencer a blinding smile before he replied, "This is what happens, my pretty little Dr. Reid, when you keep a man of my importance waiting for so long." He paused for a second before adding, "Also, I will find out where you keep your stash of hidden candy. It's in here somewhere, I know it."

Spencer simply rolled his eyes once more, holding back a chuckle as he set his brown bag on his desk. But hey, at least Damien teasing him meant that he didn't hold a grudge against Spencer for snapping at him during the car ride to the station.

"So, did you call that other police department about the girl's murder that I read about?" Spencer asked, sitting in the chair directly across from his desk, where Damien was _still_ sitting casually.

Damien smirked, "Of course I did. I talked to the lead investigator on the case, and it turns out that along with the murder you read about, there was _another_ murder in _another_ nearby town, and all of the victims were exactly like ours: thin, attractive teenage girls with dark brown hair and green eyes. _And_," Damien paused for dramatic effect," their bodies were all found in parks."

Spencer looked at his partner in surprise. "That's…"

"…way too much of a coincidence." Damien finished for him, his soft and playful face suddenly turning serious. "Do you think we have a serial killer on out hands?"

Spencer considered this before replying with, "The victim's appearances are all the same and very specific, and so are the dump sites, and if the town's are all so close…" Spencer turned to meet Damien's now solemn eyes, "I think we might, or at least need to consider the possibility. But before we do anything, we have to talk to the other detectives in the other towns about it." Damien nodded and finally removed his feet from Spencer's desk, and took off Spencer's glasses before throwing them and Spencer's bag at him. Spencer managed to catch his glasses before they hit the ground and broke, but his bag hit the ground with an annoying thud. Spencer shot Damien a glare and bent over to pick up his bag, muttering about how "insufferable" Damien could be sometimes, when his medallion suddenly slipped out of his pocket and hit the floor, rolling and spinning until it landed in front of Damien, who had just leaned over with a smirk to help Spencer get up from where he was crouched on the floor.

Both detectives froze, and Spencer quickly snatched it up off of the floor, along with his bag, before standing up. He locked gazes with Damien for a second, who had a weird but hard to read expression on his face. Spencer felt his face starting to heat up, and he turned around hurriedly, intending to pretend that the whole medallion-thing didn't just happen, but he instead almost crashed into a police officer who had just walked in.

"Ohh, I'm sorry," the officer stammered, and Spencer recognized him as the officer he just talked to outside of the washroom a few minutes ago.

"No problem," Spencer said in a rush, still wanting to get out of his office, "Is there anything you need?"

"Umm, I was just told to tell you guys…" Spencer was starting to lose his patience, but before he could snap at the man to get to the point, the police officer cut him off, "Another teenage girl's body has turned up in a nearby park."

* * *

So… there you guys have it *hides under a rock*. I hope it wasn't too bad, and if you guys want me continue it, please review and give me your feedback because, good or bad, I would really appreciate it! Also, our loveable and sexy Derek Morgan, along with the rest of the BAU, will be heavily featured in the next chapter, since I am, again, switching Derek and Spencer's POV throughout the story. Ohh, and tell me what you think of Damien ;) I basically imagine him as your average sexy blond guy with gorgeous ice blue eyes, a total flirt and endearing smartass, but who is like Spencer's rock and best friend, since he doesn't have Morgan or the rest of the BAU for that… yet ;) So, anyway, please review and tell me what you think! Thank you guys SSSOO much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! :D

~CMGL


	2. Chapter 2

_**10 Seconds Until Self-Destruct **_

**Summary-**** Spencer Reid is a genius detective with more then a few dark secrets. Derek Morgan is an FBI profiler with a tragic past. Both are broken, but when a case brings them together, can they fix each other? AU in which Reid never joined the BAU, M/R SLASH, Reid/Team friendships**

**Warnings-**** language, mentions of drug use, violence and torture…**

**Rating-****T (for now) **

**A/N:**** The day after I posted this story, I decided to check my email, to see if maybe I'd gotten a review or two, or a couple of people interested. But when I did check it, I'm pretty sure I sat there for like, two minutes, completely stunned, and when I did say something, it was along the lines of "HOLY FRIGGIN' CRAP!" And even now, the emails and feedback keep coming. When I posted this story, I never thought I would get so much good feedback and alerts on it and just… wow. Thank you guys SSSOOO much for reading and giving my story a try. It means an absolute **_**ton**_** to me that you guys are, and I'm thrilled that you guys are enjoying it. :D **

**So this chapter will center around Derek, and feature the BAU, as well as him and our favorite technical analyst, Ms. Penelope Garcia. I did say in the summary that Spencer isn't the only one 'broken' in this fic, and you will get to see some Derek-angst in this chapter too. In the next chapter, however, Derek and the team will meet Spencer and Damien, and by that I mean Spencer and Derek will FINALLY meet. Sadly, they won't in this chapter, because I wanted to do one chapter centered around Spencer (the first one) and one around Derek (this one) before they are introduced. :) But still, I hope you like and enjoy this chapter, and thanks again for giving my story a try! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters (or the things and storylines that happened and centered on them in the past): just my OC's and plotline. If I did own Criminal Minds, well, let's just say it would be the way us fangirls want it: lots of heavy and hot Morgan and Reid slash, and lots of Spencer in danger, and… other things ;) **

**Chapter 2**

**Hands**

If there was one thing, one feeling that Derek Morgan knew he would never forget, it was the hands. The hands that seemed to be everywhere; invading his dreams, causing him to doze off at any given time and wake up sweating and choking on both bile and a scream. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget the feeling of the hands touching him, suffocating him, _hurting_ him. He just couldn't forget.

The hands were the reason he was awake right now, lying on his couch in a t-shirt and sweatpants, watching god-knows-what on his television. His dog, Clooney, was curled up beside him, and Derek absent-mindedly scratched at his ears. Normally, he'd never let Clooney on the couch, but lately, he'd been loosening up on the rules. On his life, actually.

Derek sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. When did he become like this? So undone, so weak. He was an FBI agent for god's sake, and yet he was afraid to even go to sleep for fear that the nightmares would overwhelm him once more. And it wasn't just the hands that he dreamt about. Sometimes he watched his father die over and over again, the sound of the gunshot screaming at him like a cruel and broken record. He'd watch, paralyzed, as the light left his father's once bright eyes, as the blood stain from that one fatal bullet grew bigger and bigger, until Derek felt like he was drowning in it. That was when he always woke up from that dream, but either way, he always knew what he dreamt about, what he saw. It was impossible to unsee.

And this all scared Derek, because he knew what was causing these uncontrollable nightmares and dreams: his job.

For years he had been working with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, a group of the best profilers in the country. His job was everything to him, and he couldn't imagine doing anything else with his life. Of course, it was probably one of the most emotionally draining and depressing jobs _ever, _considering all of the horror, pain and grief he witnessed on a daily basis, but he always did consider it worth it. He was helping people, _saving_ them, and the look of the people they rescued as they were reunited with their families and loved ones always enforced Derek's belief that he was doing the right thing with his life.

But recently, he had been finding it harder to let go of cases, of the people they didn't save, especially the children. He couldn't help thinking that he could have been one of them, one of the people whose bodies were found dead, abused and with sightless eyes begging for someone to bring them back, to let them live again, to make their final moments be forgotten and just _be_ again.

The BAU had been getting more and more cases involving children lately, ones where they were kidnapped and killed by sick, terrible people who actually _got off_ on the pain and fear they brought them. It made Derek want to throw up, and the worst part was that he _knew_ what those children felt. The confusion, the fear, the humiliation, the wanting to just disappear and _never_ have to remember anything _ever again_. He knew how it felt like to feel the hands, and what had happened to each and every one of those children.

He was one of the lucky ones though.

He wasn't dead.

But he sure as hell didn't feel lucky.

But the nightmares were still worsening and becoming more frequent, and Derek was terrified that his job was finally starting to affect him too much. People had always told him that one day he would snap; he wouldn't be able to handle it anymore. That he couldn't have such a life-altering, dangerous, emotionally grueling job and lifestyle, and that one day, he just wouldn't be able to do it anymore.

Like Gideon, who Derek once looked up to, but had to watch slowly deteriorate until he finally snapped and resigned from the Bureau before running away without so much as a goodbye.

Like Elle, who may have killed a man in cold blood before she left and never turned back.

Derek Morgan refused to end up like them.

But his past was starting to catch up to him, as were the memories and long-forgotten, awful feelings, and Derek was starting to wonder how much more of it all he could take. He knew it was all were starting to affect his job performance. The team was starting to notice how tired he had been lately, how unfocused and distracted he was becoming. Derek could tell his boss Hotch was itching to have a talk with him, but Derek knew he couldn't tell him the truth. _I think this job is starting to break me. _No, that wasn't an option.

But were there any others? And what would he do with his life if he decided he couldn't handle working for the FBI? Derek could always move back to Chicago to live with his family, he supposed, but then what would he do? No, Derek was nothing if not Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan.

He wasn't going to fall apart.

He wasn't going to give into the nightmares.

He was going to do what he always did: push past it, then solve a case, then solve another one, and continue to do so. He was going to keep going, no matter what.

Or at least, that's what he was going to do his best to do.

Suddenly, Derek thought about a conversation he had with Emily Prentiss the other day.

"_Are you ever going to move from one night stands to an __**actual**__ relationship?" she asked in a teasing tone, but there was an actual spark of interest in her now-radiant eyes._

_Derek smirked before replying lightly with "Where's the fun in that?"_

_Emily simply laughed and rolled her eyes before they both returned to their paperwork._

Maybe that was it. Derek was, after all, 39 years old, and he couldn't remember the last time he had a stable, actual relationship with somebody. Maybe he was just, god forbid, _lonely_.

But he knew he couldn't risk a relationship. Look what happened to Hotch: the women he loved was _murdered_ because of his job. And then there was famous author and profiler David Rossi, who had _three_ failed marriages. Their job simply didn't allow for them to have actual relationships or marriages, and even if it did, Derek knew he couldn't risk it. Though he would never admit it to anyone, he would be too scared to have his heart broken. He couldn't fall in love only to end up shattered and alone. He just couldn't handle it.

Derek all of a sudden groaned loudly, causing Clooney to jolt awake and growl slightly. Derek simply sighed at this, before getting up off of the couch and heading towards his kitchen. His gaze flickered to his oven, where the time was displayed, red and annoyingly bright.

2:39am.

Derek nearly groaned again.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, before walking tiredly over and pulling his fridge open. He kneeled down, wincing as a blast of cool air hit him, before pulling out a cold and icy beer. He then stood up, shivering slightly, before shutting the fridge door and leaning against his counter, bottle still in hand.

Derek remembered when he went over to Hotch's house one time soon after Haley died, to see how he was doing, if he was okay. Hotch didn't answer the door, but when Derek knocked once more, it was revealed to be unlocked. The door had creaked open, and he saw Hotch drinking, a look of drunken sorrow and pain written all over his normally stoic face. Soon after Hotch came back to work at the BAU, Derek had confronted him about it, worried about his boss, his friend. Hotch had looked at Derek, a weird expression on his face, before saying softly, in the most vulnerable tone Derek had ever heard him speak in, "It helped me forget".

If there was one thing Derek needed right now, it was to forget.

Of course, Hotch had never done anything like that again, but Derek knew he wouldn't make a habit of it either. And of course, Derek knew drinking at this time of night was probably the stupidest thing he could do right now, especially since he had work tomorrow, but he was desperate to escape his overwhelming thoughts and emotions and just let it all fade away for a while.

So he popped the cap off of the bottle, tipped it back and drank until it was all empty. Derek closed his eyes, feeling fuzzy and slightly light-headed, but it soon became worth it.

He couldn't feel the hands any more.

* * *

"Good morning my loves!"

Penelope Garcia's bright and perky voice matched perfectly with the outfit she was wearing as she entered the bullpen, looking _way_ too energetic and happy to be there. Everyone else on the BAU cracked a smile at this, all looking awake and ready to take on their next case.

Derek meanwhile, felt and almost certainly looked like an absolute _wreck_.

He had ended up drinking way more than he planned on, and eventually fell asleep at around 3:30am, only to have to get up a couple of hours later. Only this time, he had a killer hangover and headache, and felt like death warmed over. He had noticeable dark circles under his eyes, which were bloodshot and screamed how exhausted and miserable he was feeling. His friends on the team had commented on it, but Derek simply stated he had a late night, and refused to say anything else.

He was starting to feel guilty and ashamed about what he did: drinking didn't solve anything, and he knew that, but still… it was a one time thing, and he promised himself he wouldn't do it again, no matter how crappy or down he was feeling. Still, despite how terrible the aftermath of his night of drinking was, it was nice to just… forget, even for a little while.

Derek was brought out of his thoughts by Garcia, who had started describing the BAU's next case. He was aware of the glances that were being thrown his way, from basically everyone on the team, especially Garcia and Hotch. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, starting to feel self-conscious and embarrassed (which were feelings Derek Morgan did _not_ do), and instead tried to focus on what Garcia was saying about the case at hand.

"Alright so," Garcia was saying, "You guys are going to Sin City for a while, to investigate the kidnappings and brutal killings of," she showed a picture of four beautiful teenagers, "Tyler Sparks, Jennifer Williams, Tamara McAllen and Samantha Brooks." She then showed the team several pictures of the girls after death, causing them all to wince internally.

"Now, two of these girls were dumped in Las Vegas, while the other two were dumped in other, nearby towns: Farburrow and Elmsburgh.* But," she continued before anyone could ask if they were sure it was the same offender, "The victimology is creepily similar. As you could probably tell from the pictures, they all had dark brown hair, perfect skin and teeth, green eyes, and were all athletic, thin and tall, and all were very beautiful. Also," Garcia paused again, to show the team pictures of the dump sites, "They were all dumped in parks. The ones found in Farburrow and Elmsburgh were found in trees, while the ones found in Las Vegas were both dumped in bushes."

"What was there cause of death?" JJ asked, tucking her golden blond hair behind her ears.

"Well, the ME couldn't exactly determine it, because of all the wounds they sustained anti-mortem. They were all stabbed eight times in their abdomen and torsos, beaten severely, and burn marks were found all over their bodies, from either matches or some form of electrocution."

"That's a lot of rage," Rossi commented, "And someone with that amount of rage doesn't show any sign of stopping."

Garcia nodded, looking grim. "Exactly, my fine Italian profiler." Rossi could only blink at that while everyone else stifled a smile, "Yesterday, another girl was taken in Las Vegas, which the investigators on the case are starting to think have become his kill zone. Each girl appears to be held hostage for a couple of days before their bodies are found. _And _," she showed a picture of a beautiful teenager with dark brown hair and bright green eyes, "This is what she looks like."

Hotch nodded, "That means we don't have a lot of time." He stood up, the rest of the team following suit, "Wheels up in thirty." He stated before he and the rest of team started to file out of the room. Before Derek could leave, however, he felt a hand with extremely sharp nails grab on to his wrist. Stifling a sigh, he turned around and came face-to-face with a very concerned and angry Penelope Garcia.

"Baby girl, I'm fine." He stated firmly before she could speak. "I just had a late night, that's all."

"So you've been having these 'late nights' for days now?" she challenged. "You haven't been acting like yourself for a while now Derek," Derek winced slightly at the use of his first name, which meant Garcia was pissed, "And you won't even tell _me_ of all people why! I-"

"Penelope," Derek broke in gently, "I'm fine, honestly. I've been really tired lately, because of all of the cases we're getting. I never did like traveling that much."

That wasn't lying: he had been really tired lately, because of all of the cases the team had been getting. It just wasn't the traveling part of them that was bothering him.

Garcia eyed Derek for a moment before saying in a no-nonsense and slightly suspicious tone, "Fine. I can tell that you're lying about something though," Derek opened his mouth to protest, hoping desperately that she hadn't figured it out, but she cut him off, "However, I will let you off this one time, because you have a case to get to and solve. But, when you get back, you will tell me. You of all people know, Derek Morgan, that you can_ not_ hide from **_the_** Penelope Garcia."

Derek smiled slightly at this before nodding, "I know, believe me."

Garcia gave him a slight hug and a knowing smile before winking at him, "I'll wait anxiously for your return."

And with that, she flounced out of the room, leaving Derek stand in the middle of the bullpen, his smile from before soon fading. He was _ssooo_ not ready to talk to Garcia, because she _was_ right: he couldn't hide from her. He sighed one last time, running his hand over his face, before leaving the room to pack up for their next case.

Suddenly, Derek wished he could have another drink.

* * *

***Those two towns, Farburrow and Elmsburgh, are NOT real, by the way :) They will be talked about and mentioned throughout the story, but the main setting is Las Vegas. They are two towns I made up for the purposes of this story, and… yeah. :) But I'll probably have quite a bit of fun making up what they're like and stuff, so we'll see where my muse takes me ;) **

**Hmmm… I think I like the previous chapter more, but that's because I'm slightly more comfortable writing from Reid's POV… and like writing about Damien too :) But still, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and don't worry: as I said before, in the next one, Spencer and Derek shall FINALLY meet, and *spoiler alert* the name of the chapter shall be called 'Sparks' ;) Can you guess why? Anyway, thank you guys so much for reading, and I will try to update again as soon as I can. And again, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please leave a review telling me what you think! **

**~CMGL **


	3. Chapter 3

_**10 Seconds Until Self-Destruct **_

**Summary- Spencer Reid is a genius detective with more than a few dark secrets. Derek Morgan is an FBI profiler with a tragic past. Both are broken, but when a case brings them together, can they fix each other? AU in which Reid never joined the BAU, M/R SLASH, Reid/Team friendships**

**Warnings- language, mentions of drug use, violence and torture…**

**Rating-T (for now) **

**A/N: … I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm SSSSOOOO sorry for not updating in such a long time! The thing is, I've been going on quite a few longer vacations this summer, so that's been taking up quite a bit of time, and also two of my closest friends are suffering losses in their lives (one of them lost their father recently, who I knew pretty well, may he rest in peace) so I've been devoting a lot of time to them too, which I'm sure you guys understand. So while I do have my reasons, I really am sorry, and I promise not to disappear and not-update for a while again. Thank you so much for being patient and I hope that the wait is worth it… I hope. **

**So I know I said that this chapter would involve Morgan and Reid finally meeting, but I've decided to put that bit in a separate chapter, since it turned up longer than I thought I'd make it a separate chapter. But this means that I have it written, and it will be updated very shortly after I finish updating this chapter, so I think that this works out. This chapter gives you a bit more insight into Derek and Spencer's minds and lives, especially Spencer's, and involves some pretty heavy conversations, thus, the chapter's name. But I will not hold you guys up any longer, so please read and enjoy (well.. I hope you enjoy at least) and the next chapter will be up tonight and very shortly! **

**Disclaimer- I do not own Criminal Minds, any of its characters or storylines or anything besides my season box sets and creepy fantasies of what should (will) happen on the show between Morgan and Reid :D **

* * *

**Chapter 3 **

* * *

**Conversations **

* * *

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick._

_Tock._

In a sudden but violent movement, Spencer whipped the book he had been trying to read at his clock, which was perched on a bookcase on the other side of his bedroom. The clock's screen smashed almost instantly, and the machine skidded across the smooth wood of the bookcase before hitting the ground with a loud thud. It then lay there, broken and unmoving.

Spencer watched this as it happened, but it was like it was occurring in slow motion. He seemed almost calm for a moment, but there was still that nearly undetectable sense of chaos buried underneath the surface and away from view. It was as if his world had stopped for a while, and cruel, bitter reality had only started to sink in. He slowly started coming to his senses, and started realizing exactly where he was and what was truly happening.

His breathing started to become ragged and uneven, nearly suffocating him as it hitched in his parched and sore throat. His bedroom seemed so small, too small, and it felt like his walls were slowly compressing him, the hot, muggy air so densely packed that it felt like it was burning. And judging by the way Spencer was sweating, the liquid streaming steadily down his face, it might as well have been. But there were still shivers running through his body, causing bursts of cold to appear harshly against the heat that his body was otherwise radiating.

Spencer closed his eyes and took a deep but shaky breath, trying to restore control to his body once more.

_Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths, you can do this, it's all okay…_

The words ran through the genius's head, not at all helping the pulsing that was starting to pound against his skull. _Please,_ he silently begged, _please not again…_

He thought that the cravings were over, the symptoms of withdrawal and the agony that came with it. He had been off drugs for months now, but he was starting to realize that the fight still wasn't over yet, and probably never truly would be.

Despite his best efforts, Spencer felt tears begin to burn behind his eyes. He opened them briefly, let the tears blur his vision and cause even more scalding hot pain, but he refused to let them fall. To let the drugs win, let them break him anymore than they already had. He had come too far to let that happen. But that didn't stop the pain and despair from ripping through him.

Spencer leaned forward, his elbows digging into his thighs as he buried his face into his hands. He felt shudders run through his body as he sat on the edge of his bed, trying so badly to cope but knowing that once a craving hit, there was no stopping it.

As if on cue, Spencer's stomach started to lurch, and he shot to his feet, staggering blindly toward the washroom that was attached to his room. He was vaguely aware of the sparks of shooting pain that were appearing on the bottom of his feet, which were caused by the broken shards of glass and his clock that were scattered around his floor and in front of the bathroom, but Spencer paid no mind to it.

The moment he entered his washroom, he collapsed in front of the toilet, instantly emptying out the contents of his stomach in giant, gasping spasms. Spencer felt his throat burn and sear, and his stomach contract uncontrollably, sending even more waves of pain throughout his body.

Eventually, there was nothing more for him to bring up back up, and he sat there on his knees, resting his burning forehead on the cool porcelain seat as he panted, his breathing even more broken than before. He was now drenched in sweat, his shaky arms wrapped tightly around his stomach in order to give him something, anything to hold onto.

_Why me? _

The words that had been haunting Spencer ever since the kidnapping suddenly ran through his feverish brain, only adding to his feelings of despair and self-loathing.

_Why did this happen to me? What did I ever do? Why me? Why? Why? Why?_

_WHY?! _

The words grew hysterical even in Spencer's mind, until he was tempted to start screaming it to the world, even if he knew that no one could ever give him a proper answer. No matter what he did, it would forever remain hopeless and unobtainable.

Spencer sat there for a while, the only sound piercing the air being his breathing. But eventually, his knees started to hurt from being pressed to the cool, tiled bathroom floor for so long, and while a dim part of Spencer welcomed the pain, the blissful distraction, he forced himself to switch positions on the cold, hard floor. With tired and unsteady limbs, he switched his position so that his back was resting against the side of the toilet seat. He drew his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on them, closing his tired and heavy eyes with a sigh.

The hysteria and suffering that had threatened to overtake him before was starting to ebb away, leaving Spencer exhausted but still distressed. On the bright side, this wasn't as bad as some of his other episodes. Sometimes, he would tear apart his bathroom to try and find the drugs, or something to take the pain away, even though he knew that he wouldn't be able to find anything. Other times, he'd call Damien, sobbing and begging for help. And the worst ones usually involved him breaking or shattering stuff. Spencer remembered almost giving Damien a heart attack when he came to Spencer's apartment one time to find his bathroom mirror smashed and Spencer lying on his bed, asleep, but drenched in blood. At least tonight, none of that had happened.

Hot shame suddenly cascaded over Spencer, causing him to feel dizzy and upset all over again.

He'd been telling himself that he wasn't letting the drugs win, but he was. He was letting them slowly destroy him, even if he wasn't taking them. He was letting them win every time he thought about them, every time he thought about using, every single time the cravings took over… They were winning. And eventually, the game will be over, and Spencer was becoming less and less sure that he'd be the one coming out on top.

Eventually, he realized, he was going to lose.

Eventually, it will be game over.

* * *

**_THE NEXT DAY..._**

* * *

"I bet you $5 that they'll all being wearing suits."

Spencer looked up from the case file, a mixture of annoyance, weariness, and pure exasperation on his face. "Damien-"

"And sunglasses. Black ones, that is. Anything to make them look all 'dark and official'".

"_Damien_-"

"And that they're going to stride around with giant and 'intimidating' guns to their belts, and be completely emotionless, like that one guy in that crappy crime movie we went to see a while ago…"

"Damien, they aren't going to be that bad!" Spencer finally snapped, throwing the other detective another look of exasperation. "Look, we have a serial killer hunting in several, victim-rich areas, one of which is _Las Vegas_, so of course the FBI's getting involved. Now can we please just review the case and victimology one more time before they arriv-"

"And the team that's coming in has a really weird name," Damien continued to speak as if Spencer never had, "The Behave… The Behavioural-"

"The Behavioural Analysis Unit," Spencer cut in, annoyance clear in his voice, but there was thinly veiled amusement in it too, "They're profilers Damien, and they're here to help us, not replace us. And do _not_ try and contradict that," he added firmly when he saw the other man's mouth open once again. His jaw snapped shut, and his face resembled that of a kicked puppy as he pouted at Spencer, causing the latter's mouth to quirk up in a smile before turning to look at the case file, which was strewn across his lap. But of course, after about five seconds of silence, Damien contradicted it.

"So how exactly do you know that they're not here to replace us? I that it's a pretty viable option. I mean, with a name like that, the FBI must be desperate to get rid of them and-"

"Is your mission in life to simply _annoy_ me?" Spencer shot back, but there was no real malice in his voice. Normally, there would have been, and he would have completely snapped at Damien by now, especially considering how tired and drained he was and had been feeling lately. Recently, he'd been snapping at Damien quite a bit, he realized guiltily. But right now, he was kind of enjoying their stupid, pointless banter (well, arguing was probably the more correct term for it, but still).

It was normal.

It made him feel lighter and happier.

And in some weird, twisted way, it made him feel loved.

Damien was laughing, his eyes dancing with amusement as he replied with a smirk.

"Are you just realizing it now?"

Damien stood up from his chair and leaned forward, ruffling Spencer's hair. Spencer shot him a scowl and stuck his tongue childishly at his friend,

"Screw you," He mumbled laughter clear in his voice. It may have been a somewhat out of character thing for him say, but hey, he hadn't exactly been himself for a while now. Plus, he knew it would make Damien happy: the fact that he was teasing back, like he sometimes used to. Well, occasionally. Only when he did (or wanted to) understand Damien's teasing and jokes.

Damien winked at him, laughing lightly, before making his way over to the bookcase at the corner of the office, where a coffee machine was located. "Ohh, the doctor has a mouth on him now, does he? My, my, my, what has the world come to?" he replied dramatically as he turned on the machine.

Both Damien and Spencer were famous at the station for being 'notorious coffee addicts', but knew from experience that the coffee the station served was nowhere near as satisfying as they needed… or good enough, for that matter. So the two of them had pitched in some money and bought themselves a super fancy, over-the-top coffee machine, and put it in Spencer's office (since Damien spent about twice as much time in Spencer's office than his own) to use during work hours. Meaning, they used it a lot. Like now, for instance.

Spencer tried to read over the case file (for about the millionth time) while Damien was occupied, but of course, Damien was having none of it.

"_You have an eidetic memory, for god's sake." _He'd always say,_ "You are about the last person on earth that needs to review case files" _

"_And what about you?" _Spencer would always say back, eyebrows raised,_ "Shouldn't you be reviewing them, if you don't have my memory?" _

"_That's the best part. As long as you're here, I don't have to memorize or know anything except the basics. Namely: where we need to drive to next." _

Spencer was _long_ since familiar with that conversation.

But then again, this was their first time dealing with a serial killer, and it couldn't exactly hurt to review the case a couple more times, especially if the FBI was coming in within the next while or so. He and Damien had wanted to go and help search for the missing girl, Tyra Adams, who had recently been abducted by the man they were looking for (well, if the victimology was any indication), but their supervisor had insisted that they stay at the station to wait for the FBI to arrive. So basically, they were trying (Spencer was trying) to review the case and, as Damien had put it, "waiting to be the FBI's goddamn welcoming committee".

"So, what's up with your foot?" Damien asked nonchalantly as he leaned against the bookcase and waited for the coffee to finish, "I noticed you kind of limping when you came in today."

Spencer stilled at the question, inwardly cursing but glad that Damien couldn't see his now pale face. Of course Damien has noticed. How could he not? The cuts from last night, which were caused by the broken clock and pieces of glass, made walking a very annoying and painful thing to do, thus the _'I-thought-it-wasn't-noticeable'_ limping. It was also a lingering but constant reminder of the drugs, but then again, wasn't everything? His fingers curled slightly at the thought, and especially the one of the night before.

"Oh, I just cut my toe on something on the way out of my apartment," Spencer tried replying nonchalantly back when he realized that Damien was still waiting for an answer, "It's fine though." He felt that familiar guilt in the pit of his stomach about lying to him, and wished that Damien would just drop the subject. But knowing him, he wouldn't.

"Are you sure? I could take a look at if you want." Damien asked, sounding concerned. He could be (and constantly was) very over-protective of Spencer. Spencer still couldn't figure out why. Well, he could, but he chose to ignore those facts, and feign ignorance. Spencer just chose to take it as a compliment of sorts, and brush it off most of the time.

Ignorance was bliss, after all.

"I'm sure," Spencer replied a little too quickly, trying not to show his rising panic at the thought of Damien finding out what really happened. Despite how much he hated lying to his best friend, he was determined not to tell him what was going on with him recently. He just… couldn't bring himself to do it.

Though he couldn't see Damien's expression, Spencer knew that it would be one of worry_. Why are you so weak?_ He thought to himself angrily. _Just suck it up and- _

Spencer heard Damien sigh slightly, before he walked over and kneeled in front of Spencer, eyes devoid of all of their earlier humour and light. Instead, it was replaced with concern and weariness. Spencer felt his face flush, and tried to avoid Damien's piercing gaze, but there was no escaping it.

"I know that you're hiding something from me." Damien stated simply, holding up a hand to stop Spencer from speaking when he tried to protest, "Don't tell me you aren't. I know you, Spencer, a lot better than you think. Plus, it isn't too hard to see that something's going on with you, what with the way you've been acting lately."

Spencer flinched slightly at those words, guilt flashing through him once more as Damien stood up from where he was kneeling on the floor, and sat back down on his chair, sighing again.

"Look, if you don't want to tell me what's wrong, that's fine. You don't have to, and we both know that, but if there is something going on that's causing you pain, or hurting you in any way," Damien emphasized 'any' and Spencer winced, knowing exactly what he was referring to, "Then you need to tell someone. Anyone, Spencer, not only me." Damien softened slightly before continuing "I know that it's been _so_ hard for you these past few months,"_ No shit_, Spencer thought bitterly, but he kept his mouth shut and let Damien continue, "But you don't have to keep it bottled all up inside of you anymore, okay? There are people that care about you Spence, and can't stand to see you hurt. I can't pretend that I know what you've been going through, but I refuse to see you suffer like that ever again." Damien looked Spencer right in the eye before saying in a somewhat desperate tone, "Do you hear me?"*

Spencer paused, and, to his horror, felt tears starting to burn in his eyes. He didn't deserve someone like Damien in his life. He still couldn't full understand why the other detective was even still _trying,_ let alone saying those things to him and how much he cared. Spencer desperately wanted to tell Damien what was going on, let it all pour out, let Damien tell him, completely and honestly, that it was all going to be okay. But it wasn't, and never would be again. Damien may be his best friend, and the only person he truly, whole-heartedly trusted, but this was something he had to do and face alone. Plus… Spencer couldn't put Damien through all of that again. It was his most frequently thought-up excuse, but it was, in Spencer's mind, a pretty damn good one. Damien had gone through and done too much for Spencer, and it was time that Spencer finally faced these demons himself. Alone. No matter how much it hurt.

So Spencer blinked the tears rapidly out of his eyes, and replied in the strongest voice he could muster, "I hear you. And I know that you're only worried about me, but I promise you that if I need it, I'll talk to you and ask for help, okay?" That wasn't too far from the truth. But it didn't mean that it was.

Damien nodded slowly after a moment, seemingly satisfied with the answer. At least, Spencer hoped he was, if only for the time being. "Alright," Damien spoke softly. But a moment later, his familiar smirk was back on his face and all of the tension in the room and between the two men disappeared. "So how to you feel about," he lowered his voice for effect, "The feds coming in?"

"You make it sound like a horror movie," Spencer replied lightly, trying to completely erase their previous conversation from his mind.

Damien nodded, looking dead serious as he replied with an exasperated, "Uh, it kinda is." He lowered his voice once more into a mock whisper, "_The feds are coming, the feds are coming, the feds are coming…"_

Spencer smiled at this, a real, actual smile, before realizing something and asking slowly, "Umm, Damien, weren't you making coffee a minute ago?"

Damien froze, eyes widening as he turned his attention toward the coffee machine.

_"Oh yeah."_

* * *

Derek Morgan had decided that he officially hated working with profilers.

The plane ride to Las Vegas wasn't too bad. The team had talked over the case in more detail, talked about possible elements to the profile, etc. and though Derek could still feel concerned and confused glances being thrown his way, he managed to ignore them. Same with the clearly-worried-but-not-so-subtle whispering that accompanied them. But when they finally arrived at Vegas, Hotch had sent Rossi and JJ to the most recent crime scene, Prentiss to the coroner's office…and decided to take Derek to the station to help him 'set up' there.

Though Derek was always one of the people Hotch sent into the field, he hadn't been too surprised at the decision, to be perfectly honest. Angry? Yes. Irritated? Very. But surprised… not really. Derek knew he looked like hell, he felt like hell, and he just clearly wasn't on top of his game. It didn't really take much of a profiler to see any of that, he supposed. But still, between the looks everyone had been giving him, the whispering they were doing, and the expression that Hotch had on his face as they started riding toward the station that clearly read 'we need to frigging talk'…

Derek had decided that he hated working with profilers.

On the bright side, Hotch had given Derek about three minutes to formulate and sort out some of the thoughts swirling around in his head before he finally asked the question.

"Morgan, what's going on with you?"

And here we go.

Derek sighed, running his hand over his face before replying tiredly, "Look Hotch, I just had a late night and-"

"Bullshit."

Derek looked up from the car's dashboard, stunned by the words and the harsh tone to his boss's voice.

"We both know that it's more than a late night. You've been acting off for a while now, Morgan, and I've let it slide, thinking that you'll get over it or talk to someone, like you always do whenever something's bothering you. But it's gone on too long now, and it's taking to affect your job performance, and therefore, the teams. And _that_ is something that I cannot let slide." Hotch paused to glance over at his teammate, and sighed, his voice losing its harsher edge as he continued, "Look, I'm not just speaking as your boss here. I'm speaking as your friend too, believe it or not," Derek smiled slightly at this, staring out of the window, but listening intently to what Hotch was saying, "And I'm not the only one concerned about you. The whole team is, Derek, and if you won't tell me what's going on, then tell Garcia, or someone else. Because if this continues to affect you and how effectively you perform your job-"

"I know, I know, measures will have to be taken, I get it Hotch," Derek finally looked away from the window and turned to face his boss, who, since the two were currently stuck at red light, was staring intently at him, "But I'm fine, honestly." _Lies_. "I've just… been feeling off lately. I dunno, I've just been more tired and-"

"Nightmares?" Hotch interrupted, his voice inquisitive, but Derek could hear the undertones of sympathy in it as he spoke. Derek hated when people felt sympathetic towards him. It made him feel weak, like people were judging him, watching him and his every move to make sure that everything was 'okay'. But, though Derek hated to admit it… he'd seen people, especially his teammates, act and look sympathetic towards him more than he could or _ever_ wanted to count.

"You could say that," Derek answered Hotch's question, deciding that that was basically true, only the nightmares didn't _just_ invade his dreams now. His voice betrayed only a hint of how _tired_ of it all he truly was, his deep but now dull and tired brown eyes fixed on the passing cars along the rode the two were driving along.

Hotch paused for a moment, and Derek could practically feel the man's frustration at the vague answer, but since they both knew that Derek wasn't going to elaborate or explain any further, his boss simply sighed. "Do you need a vacation?" He asked.

Derek's head snapped up when those words were asked. _No,_ his mind screamed at him. If Derek went on vacation, all he'd be able to think about were the people and ghosts and memories and his past that all followed and haunted him wherever he went, and the people who he wasn't saving. It's kind of funny, really, Derek muses. The job that is eating away and tearing at him is the one thing he didn't think he could live without.

Oh the irony.

"No Hotch, I'm good, I'll be fine, I just need to get back in my game, that's all." Derek said in a slightly rushed voice as smiled at his boss, trying to ignore how fake it felt… and was.

Hotch eyed him for a few, long moments but finally nodded, "I trust though, that if anything is going on with you, you will come straight to me or another person you know you can trust. That's an order, by the way." Hotch added on with a small smirk before Derek could reply. Derek chuckled softly at this, trying to ignore the pang of guilt and melancholy that was currently stinging its way through his heart. He knew Hotch was right, and that he should tell someone. Hell, he could tell Hotch right now exactly what was happening, and he knew that his boss could almost certainly help him somehow_. I might be able to fix this_.

But no. He couldn't, and wasn't going to, risk it. If Hotch found out what was going on with him, about the drinking and what he was doing and thinking… he could fire Derek. And that thought scared him more than anything right now. This is all just a phase, Derek kept telling himself, he was going to get over it, the voices and the ghosts and all of thoughts of what could have been and what are will all disappear and he can go back to being who he really is: Derek Morgan, skilled agent and profiler, smooth and slick ladies' man, and overall badass who liked to kick down doors (he felt the need to add that last part in).

At least, those were the assumptions that he's been acting under, but still. He didn't need to talk to anyone or ask for help, no matter how much he secretly wanted to. He knew that he was strong enough to get through this, and that it would all work out in the end.

He could do this…

…Hopefully.

So he pushed his feelings of guilt and longing away and spoke once more, this time, his voice steady and much lighter than before, "Yes sir." He even added a mock salute, just to make his boss smile again and (hopefully) back off.

Luckily for Derek, it worked.

* * *

***Yes, I realize that Prentiss said that to read while talking to Reid at the end of Minimal Loss: it is one of my favourite episodes, after all ;) But I felt like it fit in this situation and I felt that even in the show the line at least sort of got to Reid, so I used it. I will acknowledge the fact that it was not my creation and I do not own it, however, just in case I need to. So... yeah.**

**Also, I'm sorry if my scene in which poor lovely Reid is suffering from cravings/going through withdrawal is inaccurate or off in any way, but I really have no experience or previous knowledge with the subject. Feel free to review or PM if something's wrong with it, and I'll change it. And I'm also sorry if the conversations that Derek and Spencer had with Hotch and Damien were repetetive, but I felt that they both needed to sort of explain themselves and why they aren't tellign anyone, and sort of what's going on with them and everything, so hopefully I did so. Wow I'm apologizing a lot. But oh well, you guys can handle it ;)**

**So please read and review, because I'm kind of uncertain about whether or not this chapter and everything is any good, and I'd really like some good, honest feedback. So thank you for your support, and the next chapter will be up later tonight, so enjoy! :D **

**-GOMIA**


	4. Chapter 4

_**10 Seconds Until Self-Destruct **_

**Summary- Spencer Reid is a genius detective with more than a few dark secrets. Derek Morgan is an FBI profiler with a tragic past. Both are broken, but when a case brings them together, can they fix each other? AU in which Reid never joined the BAU, M/R SLASH, Reid/Team friendships**

**Warnings- language, mentions of drug use, violence and torture…**

**Rating-T (for now) **

**Disclaimer- I don't own anything *sobs***

* * *

**Chapter 4**

* * *

**Sparks**

* * *

A couple of minutes later, Hotch and Derek arrived at the station. It had started to rain while they were driving, and blasts of cold air and droplets of freezing water hit them as they stepped out of the vehicle, sending shivers down their spines.

"So," Derek said as he and Hotch unloaded the SUV of anything they might need for the case. "You said that we'd be working with two detectives here?"

Hotch nodded, "They're apparently some of the best in the business." He nodded to Derek once more, and they both closed to trunk to the SUV before starting to head over to the station. The building was quite impressive, lean and tall and made of large, rectangular slabs of beige concrete and dark red and brown bricks. Small trees and shrubs framed the structure and the path that lead to the large glass doors that stood at the front, a large black sign above showing the name of their destination.

"Then why haven't we worked with them before?" Derek asked, eyes flickering from the station to Hotch, then back again.

Hotch shrugged, "We haven't had any cases in Las Vegas for a while," Though Derek knew it was true, he still snorted at the thought that Sin City of all places was even slightly more 'crime-free', "And even when we did, we always worked with other detectives," Hotch shrugged again, "I'm not sure why."

Derek pushed open the door to the station, and was met with the familiar sight and sounds of cops buzzing around and shouting from somewhere in the station, along with many messy desks and peopling talking on phones.

He and Hotch stared around for a moment, taking in their surroundings, when almost out of nowhere a man popped out. His gorgeous blond hair was messy and curly, and his deep blue eyes shone with lingering mischief, if the just barely-controlled smirk that was playing on his full, firm lips was any indication of something otherwise. He was wearing a black jacket and a burgundy shirt and black tie, with dark pants and a belt that displayed both his badge and his gun.

"Hello," He greeted cheerfully, his voice smooth and silky but perky nonetheless. "Detective Damien Jackson, LVPD*. "

He stuck out his hand and shook both Derek and Hotch's hands, some of which were carrying case files and other supplies. The detective seemed to notice this, and smiled, his teeth so white they were almost blinding, before gesturing for the two agents to follow him. "Over here, I have a place where you can set up."

As they did so, Hotch glanced over at Derek, amused by Derek's slightly shocked expression. For one of 'the best in the business', this detective was sure quite… sunny. He kind of reminded Derek of Garcia, because even though he just met the guy, his presence seemed to lighten whoever he was talking to or with. Derek decided that he liked him, because if there was one thing that he could use, it was a little lightening.

"My partner is just momentarily occupied, but he'll be with us shortly," Damien spoke, turning to look at the agents, and did Derek just see an evil smirk spread across his face, or was it just his imagination? Before he could even think to reply, Damien stopped them in front of a clean, wooden door and opened it easily, once again gesturing for the agents to follow him inside.

Derek couldn't help but be surprised at how big the room was when he stepped in, eyes traveling to the pale blue walls and grey carpeting before finally resting on the long wooden table that lay in the centre of it all, framed by several chairs. Two large bulletin boards stood at its end, one with nothing on it, the other covered in crime scene photos and other pictures and one or two evidence bags. It was creepily organized.

Hotch immediately strode forward and rested the box he was holding on the table, Derek following suit.

"There should be enough space in here, but if you need anything else, just ask." Damien said, shrugging lightly and leaning against the doorway.

"This is fine, thank you." Hotch replied, all professionalism, while Derek turned to look once more at the bulletin that was already covered.

"Impressive," he couldn't help but say, stretching his arms out slightly to the side and covering a yawn, because apparently that's what barely-any-sleep does to you.

Derek could practically hear the grin in Damien's voice as he replied, "You can thank my partner for that, Detective Dr. Reid."

Derek looked back to Damien again, confused, "Detective Dr...?"

Damien shrugged again. "He prefers Detective, but I think that adding the `Doctor' part is necessary so that people aren't blown anyway by his mind-blowing intellect."

Damien sounded very casual when he spoke, but he still sounded almost proud near the end. Derek still felt kind of confused, and looking over at Hotch, who appeared kind of speechless, he decided to not comment, even though he was secretly sort of interested. _Mind-blowing intellect? I've got to see this._

"Would you mind telling me where a coffee machine is?" He asked instead, sort of sheepishly, but because he seriously needed something to wake him up.

Damien smirked and nodded. "Just go down the main hallway, and take a left. There's a table in the corner. Watch out though, there tends to be a crowed." He winked and Derek couldn't help but smile at him before leaving the room. Yep, definitely like Garcia.

He followed the detective's instructions, and braced himself for a 'crowed', but was relieved to see that there was only one person standing at the table.

Derek strode over, and could hear the man muttering under his breath. Something like, "I need a new partner," and "Stupid imbecile."

Derek couldn't help but feel intrigued and somewhat amused by this, and as he walked over beside the table, couldn't help but quip, "Rough day?"

The man nearly jumped out of his skin, completely caught off guard and startled by his sudden appearance.

"God you scared me!" he gasped, his hand going to his chest. Finally, the man turned to face Derek, who felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight.

The man standing in front of him looked more like a model than anything (although Derek would never admit that to anyone but himself). His beautiful, messy and sandy brown hair fell in waves and curled around his angled, smooth face. His skin was a creamy shade of gold, practically flawless and his eyes were round; a mesmerizing, expressive brown. He was wearing a sky blue cotton shirt with a few buttons undone at the top, and a navy blue sweater vest that hugged his lithe frame perfectly: so did the dark gray pants he was wearing. He was wearing a shining gold, expensive-looking watch and there was a gun hanging loosely from his hip. A thick black jacket was sprawled over the table beside him, and his hand was resting on top of it as he leaned lightly on the table.

Derek eventually realized that he was staring, and looked away quickly, blushing slightly. Wait, why was he blushing?

He could feel then man watching him before he suddenly spoke, sounding very apologetic and flustered, "Oh, I am so sorry. You just-ummmm-caught me off guard and I didn't mean to-"

"It's all right," Derek looked back up at the man, whose face was flushed, his expression mirroring his tone of voice, "I didn't mean to scare you. I just heard you-uhhhh-talking, and you sounded kind of pissed off, and I thought hey why not ask what's up and-"

Derek paused midsentence because since when did he start rambling? He felt his face heat up once more, and was completely confused. Why was he suddenly so nervous? Ignoring the weirdness that was occurring, he turned to the coffee machine and grabbed a nearby styrofoam cup.

"So," He started to speak, this time his voice smoother and slick and light: how it _normally_ was, "I'm going to ask once more and try not to give you a heart attack. Rough day?"

He turned to look over at the mystery man beside him, wondering in the back of his mind why he was striking up a conversation with a random stranger. Of course, Derek Morgan was a definite people person, and pleaser, for that matter, but for some reason he felt strangely compelled to talk to the man anyways. Also, he was definitely involved in law enforcement, so he wasn't technically a random stranger, right?

…Right.

Said man suddenly cracked a smile and seemed to loosen up a bit, and the sight made Derek smile too, for some other reason.

"Ohh, my partner decided that it would be hilarious to threaten our coffee maker-we keep a coffee maker here at the station-", he added in at Derek's confused expression, "by actually holding a full cup of coffee over the thing. What he didn't actually count on was accidentally pouring it on the machine." The man sighed, and Derek couldn't help but smile again at his long-suffering expression. "So now I've been forced to use this pathetic excuse for a coffee maker and drink this awful liquid that people _actually_ have the nerve to call coffee." He shuddered, before looking over and seeing Derek making a pot of it.

"No offense," he added, pink staining his cheeks, and he brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, staring up shyly at Derek.

Derek simply laughed, marveling at how at ease he felt around this man: he hadn't felt this at ease around anyone in quite a while. He just had this… aura of innocence and a sort of unassuming nature about him. Even when he was insulting the coffee and the coffee maker (all insults that Derek agreed with, by the way. He'd had enough police station coffee to know the truth) he still seemed timid, reserved almost. And when he got flustered, it was easy to see that it was very genuine_. Geez, Derek, _he thought to himself_, you talk to a guy for a minute and suddenly you're profiling him? Good job. _

Ah well, force of habit. Oh, and Derek may or may not have been kind of intrigued by the guy, which pushed him to keep profiling and talking. So _sue him. _

"None taken." Derek paused before he couldn't help but add, "So is that why you were calling your partner a stupid imbecile?"

The other man froze slightly, his face flushing once more. "Oh, you heard that." He stated plainly, looking embarrassed, causing Derek to laugh again.

Because Derek couldn't help but think it was adorable.

_Wait, adorable? _

Derek stopped laughing when he realized what he was thinking, confused again, before covering it up with a cough and saying, "Don't worry, I've called my coworkers worse." He winked at the still embarrassed man, turning his attention to the coffee machine once more and wondering what the hell he was doing. Or thinking, for that matter.

"Then what did they to deserve the insults, then? Mine at least was justified, I believe."

Derek was caught off guard by the barely noticeable smirk on the other man's face and the slightly lighter quality to his voice, but after getting over it, Derek teased right back.

"Has your partner ever planned a picnic that ended in a full blown water balloon fight in a very public park, getting you completely soaking wet in front of dozens of people?"

"Have your coworkers ever drenched you with Gatorade in the middle of work?" he challenged right back.

Oh, two could play at this game.

"Has your partner ever came to work while holding seven cats, dressed up in an outfit consisting of only clothes that have frogs on them, and proceeded to dump them on you for the remainder of the day so that you can 'protect them from the harshness that is kitty lifestyle'?"

The other man looked unfazed.

"Have your coworkers ever strode into work on their 10th year of working there wearing a party hat while riding a llama?"

Okay, Derek had to blink at that. "…what?"

Mystery Man started laughing, and the sound made Derek's heart involuntarily flutter (which he would forever deny and promptly ignored).

"Okay, so maybe I exaggerated that one a bit, but in my defense that was a giant stuffed llama he was carrying. It was, like, 5.4 feet tall and 1.1 metre long, and since an average llama can range from 5.5 feet to 6 feet in height and on average are around a metre long, I would say that the stuffed animal was pretty accurate in-" *

He stopped talking (well, more like rambling) abruptly, as if just realizing what he was saying. He started to blush again (he seemed to be doing that a lot. But it's not like Derek was really complaining. It was kind of cu- Wait, nope, he was not going to finish even thinking that sentence. WHAT THE HELL.) and Derek finally put the puzzle pieces together.

Law enforcement, but higher up so that he didn't have to wear a uniform. A detective, perhaps?

A seemingly strange, weird, out-there and wacky partner (Detective Damien Jackson never did seem very normal to Derek, did he? And that would explain the evil looks and smirks…)

'Mind-blowing intellect'. Could anyone without it know all of that stuff about llamas, or ramble so fast and passionately about something?

Derek couldn't help but blurt out the next words that flew out of his mouth.

"Detective Dr. Reid!"

The man blinked, snapping out of his mortified and still-frightfully embarrassed state to look over at Derek, who barely resisted the urge to smack his head off of the table for saying that, confused and more than slightly stunned. "…Excuse me?" Then he realized it, and turned mortified once more, "Oh my god you've met Damien."

Derek was still kind of speechless (his coffee had been long since forgotten at this point, and apparently, so had the other man's cup of it) and managed to get out a, "Ummm, yes, I've met him. I'm uhhh, Special Agent Derek Morgan, from the FBI's Bahavioural Analysis Unit." He felt the need to say the full title, and went so far as to actually pull out his badge and flash it to the shell-shocked detective before adding, "My unit and I will be working with you and, ummm, Detective Jackson for the duration of the serial killer case."

"Oh... You're FBI." Spencer spoke those words slowly, as if simply tasting them on his lips. He was staring at Derek, eyes wide with disbelief and shock. Then his gaze turned to one of horror.

"…You're FBI and you've just heard me ramble on and insult my partner and all of the things he's done and you probably think that we're both so unprofessional now and dear god I just told you how tall an average llama is and-"

"Hey, hey don't worry about it." Derek interrupted, voice consoling (though he was secretly trying not to burst out laughing because the entire situation as pretty damn interesting) as he tried to stop the man from talking so much because it sort of looked like he couldn't breathe. Derek put a hand on the detective's shoulder to slow him down, wondering why the contact sent something akin to shivers down his spine, and silence fell between the two men. They both simply stood there, in front of the long forgotten coffee machine, staring at each other until their eyes hurt.

Eventually, Derek took his hand off of the detective's shoulder, doing his best to not acknowledge the pang of disappointment he felt when he did so, and instead grinned, letting his amusement at it all take over.

"So llamas and crazy co-workers aside, I feel like we need to reintroduce ourselves." Derek's smile grew and he stretched out a hand towards the detective, whose lips started to quirk up too. "My name is Agent Derek Morgan."

The light-skinned man reached out and grasped Derek's hand tentatively, almost doubtfully, before finally letting a full, beautiful smile cross his face and grasping it more firmly. "Detective Spencer Reid." He emphasized the detective part, causing them both to inwardly grin some more.

"You know, detective, we should probably start heading back before my boss and your partner decide to freak out and send out a search warrant." That lightness, that ease that Spencer made him feel was back, shining through in his voice, and it only grew when the other man nodded, eyes sparkling with amusement and light.

"Well, Agent Morgan, I suggest that we do so, but first," He all of a sudden reached out for the table and swiftly snatched up his coat, his badge, which was revealed to be laying on top, and his coffee mug before saying in a still fairly shy but much more brave tone than before, "Do me a favour and while you`re getting a cup, try not to break this coffee machine too."

And with that, Spencer strode out of the room, leaving a shocked but amused Derek Morgan standing there, jaw hanging open slightly. It was then that he realized something.

For almost an entire few minutes, while he was talking and thinking about the detective… the ghosts had gone away.

* * *

***The part about llamas being 5.5 to 6 feet tall is true. But the 1.1 metre long thing… I have no idea if that's true: it's just a very rough, probably very inaccurate guess. But we'll just say that it's true and go with that (where's actual Reid when you need him… ;) **

**Okay so, I really hope you guys enjoyed it. Also, if Reid seems kind of OOC during his conversation with Derek, the next chapter will probably begin with the conversation from _his_ POV, so that'll probably be explained. But, as I've said before, Reid **_**is**_** different in this fic, since he is a detective, has to be at least a bit more social and confident yah da yah da yah da, but still has his geek, adorkable, flustered moments as you saw, so please bear with me on this.**

**So as always, read and review and thank you sssoooo much for doing so. I promise that I will update as soon as I can and will **_**not**_** disappear like that again. The next chapter will involve Reid and Damien meeting the rest of the team… and some more Morgan and Reid goodness. So until then, thank you and love you guys! :D**

**~GOMIA**


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